


No Rest For The Wicked, Dean Has Been Raised From Perdition

by the_boy_kings_writings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Undeath, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29105754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_boy_kings_writings/pseuds/the_boy_kings_writings
Summary: Supernatural aesthetics and edits also posted to my SPN edits blog the-boy-king-aesthetics on Tumblr





	No Rest For The Wicked, Dean Has Been Raised From Perdition

_Ding. Dong._

_Howling in the distance._

_The sound of the clock striking midnight._

No. This _can't_ be happening. _._

Sam's older brother looked at him, swallowing thickly, and in that moment Sam had _never_ seen Dean more scared in his **life**. The two brothers lined the window sills and doors with Goofer Dust. It would ward the hell hounds off, if not for a few minutes. To give him a _few_ more minutes with Dean before he'd never see him again. Dean turned to him after after they had finished warding off the windows and doors in the room they were in, shaking and trembling, trying so very hard to stay _**strong**_ for the younger Winchester- He was the one who'd have to watch, helplessly as he was dragged to hell. They'd both _known_ this day was coming- Didn't make the crap any **easier**. "I don't want to die, Sammy.." Dean whispered, only loud enough for Sam's ears to hear. Sam could swear he could hear his own heart _shatter_ into a million pieces at his feet right then and there. Never had he ever seen the older look more **terrified** , more _scared_ in his entire life. Sam wrapped his arms around his older brother, pulling him close to himself into a tight hug, his fingers fisted into the back of Dean's shirt, clutching for dear life.

The guilt inside of him was eating Sam _alive._ Guilt for all the **_horrible_** things he'd ever said to Dean, guilt for all the times he'd let him _down_. Guilt for treating Dean more as an **ENEMY** than a brother throughout their childhood. Sam felt the hot tears trickle wildly down his face, a choked sob escaping his throat. A broken, heart-breaking sound. "I'm so _sorry_ , Dean..." Sam whispered, his voice breaking, and cracking, like shattered glass. "For what Sammy?." Dean murmured, pulling away to look at the heartbreaking sight of his younger brother.

Dean knew that look in his little brother's' eyes. He was terrified. _Scared_. Scared to live in a world where Dean would be gone. Dean **knew** well enough the emotions Sam was dealing with right now. It was how Dean had felt when Sam had died in his arms that day- The reason he'd made the damn deal in the first place. And it was on that day that Dean had truly realized that he had to keep Sam safe- No matter _**what**_ it cost him. _Always look out for Sammy._ That he was his responsibility now, that Dean was his protector. Sam was his little brother, after all. Dean had felt the same way when he'd seen Sam die, holding his little brother's cold and limp body in his aching arms. He had never felt so much heartbroken _agony_ since that day. Except now.

"For _**everything**_.." Sam choked out, looking up at Dean with tear-filled eyes. Sam felt Dean reach a hand up to gently wipe away his tears, a sad smile on his older brother's lips. "I love you, Sammy. _Never_ forget that." Dean said softly, and Sam nodded shakily, swallowing thickly, a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

The two brothers pulled away from each other, a sinking feeling settling in the bottom of the younger Winchester's stomach. Dean was going to _die_. He was going to _**Hell**_. And he would be all alone. He wouldn't _have_ a big brother anymore.

Sam looked over at the blonde-haired demon known as Ruby, and she **GRINNED** from ear to ear. Dean paled. "Sam, that's not Ruby!" Dean said, and Sam felt his blood run cold.

 _Fuck_. It was goddamn Lilith. Ruby---or, Lilith in Ruby's female vessel-

Without touching Sam, she pinned him to the wall, flicking her wrist in Dean's direction, pinning him onto the table. "How long you been in her?" Dean asks nonchalantly, his voice cold, his eyes sharp as _daggers_. Lilith's blonde-haired vessel's facial expression became childlike suddenly. Lilith had taken over the body Ruby had been possessing. "Not _**long**_." Lilith grinned from ear to ear devilishly, looking down at her vessel's body. "But I like it. It's all grown up and _pretty~_ " Lilith purred, smirking in Sam's specific direction. LIlith looked up at Dean, her eyes turning white. "And where's Ruby?" Sam asked, his voice rough and strained from being pinned so hard to the wall. Lilith's eyes turned back to normal. "She was a **_very_** bad girl, so I sent her far, far away."

Lilith chuckled, striding over to where she had the younger of the two Winchesters pinned up against the wall. "Hello, Sam. I've wanted to meet you for a _very_ long time." Lilith smirked, grabbing his chin, forcing him to face her. She kissed him hard and sloppily, their lips audibly _**sizzling**_ from the sudden contact. "Your lips are soft~" She purred, throwing her head back in maniacal _laughter_. Sam looked down at the demon. "Right, so you have me, let my brother **go**." Lilith smiled sadistically at Sam, her eyes as cold as ice. "Silly goose. You wanna bargain, you have to have something _I_ want. You **don't**." She smirked over at the older of the two brothers. "So, this is your big plan, huh? Drag me to Hell. Kill Sam. And then what? Become queen bitch?" Dean retorted, his voice rough, and it was obvious he was doing his hardest to stay calm. Slowly buy himself some more time, before... "I don't answer to _puppy chow_." Lilith snapped with a cold smile. Dean struggled hard against the restraints Lilith had used to hold him down with, and Lilith slowly walked over to the door, twisting the door handle and looked at Dean, a sneer on her face. "Sick em' boys!" Lilith exclaimed as the Hellhound entered the room. Sam and Dean locked eyes for a fraction of a second, tears welling up in both brothers' eyes. Lilith laughed coldly, smiling at the two.

Sam stood against the wall, helpless, scared, and panicked. Sam screamed, thrashing against the wall against the invisible restraints Lilith had on his body. _"No! **STOP**!"_ Sam screams, as the Hellhound dragged Dean off the table Lilith had formerly had him pinned to, biting into his raw flesh, pulling him down by his legs, Dean's blood curdling screams echoing throughout the room. The Hellhound slashed Dean's right leg, attacking his chest as Dean just screamed in complete, _excruciating_ , **AGONIZING** pain.

Dean lay on his back, **SCREAMING** in pain, as the Hellhound slashed into his back and shoulder, screaming out in pain as the Hellhound flipped him over, slashing him across his chest once more, blood gushing out of all the wounds. Dean had never felt such agonizing, excruciating pain in his entire life. " _ **NO**_!" Sam screamed, watching in horror. Dean felt so awful. He never thought Sam would be forced to watch him die. This was a mental scar that would never, _ever_ heal for his little brother. And it was all his fault. _**"No! STOP IT!"**_ Sam screamed, barely able to see now, blinded by his own tears. And the Dean just..stopped fighting. He wasn't screaming anymore, but he wasn't dead, either. " **NO!** " Sam screamed, sobbing. Dean was taking his last breaths, and for a fraction of a second, his and Sam's eyes locked, and he managed to choke out his last words to his little brother. "I-I _**l**_ - ** _love you_** , S- _ **Sammy**_.." Dean choked, his body going still, and he wasn't breathing anymore.

_Dean Winchester is **dead**._

His soul had been successfully dragged into the fiery pits of Hell, to torture and _be_ tortured for all eternity.

 ** _"NOO!"_** Sam screamed, boiling anger and grief pouring together as one emotion, in Sam's own heart-shattering _screams_. Lilith flashed Sam a grin, releasing him from his position pinned on the wall. Lilith holds up her hand, and suddenly a blinding, **WHITE** light erupts from it. Sam turned his eyes, shielding his eyes from whatever she was about to do next. The white light slowly fades, and her eyes slowly turned back to normal, and she looked at Sam, confused and shocked. Sam lay on the floor huddled up next to a cabinet, holding his hands in front of his face. He soon noticed whatever Lilith had been trying to do to him wasn't working. He slowly put his hands down, pushing himself to his feet. Lilith looked at the floor in fear. Lilith held up her hand, looking at the younger WInchester. " **Back**." Sam inhaled sharply, taking a brave step towards her. "I said, _back_." Sam, without breaking eye-contact with the demon, slowly picks up Ruby's knife, determined, a hateful look in his piercing green eyes. " _I don't think so._ " Sam said, his eyes as cold as ice, his voice as sharp as daggers. Just as he was about to stab her, her large, demonic soul quickly left Ruby's vessels body, leaving through the ventilation in the roof.

Sam cursed under his breath, punching his fist hard into the drywall, a large imprint of his fist in the wall where it had made contact. Sam slid to the floor, his boiling-hot anger turning into heartbreaking, chest aching _agony_. Tears quickly built up in his hazel green eyes, tears streaming wildly down the younger Winchester's' face. He picked up Dean, holding his head close to him, tears blinding his line of sight. "No...no.. _Dean_.." Sam broke down into choked-out sobs, his body shaking and trembling. " _ **Dean**_.." He whispered, tears spilling down his cheeks. For hours Sam sat there, clutching Dean's cold body to his chest, crying his eyes out. His throat was raw and _numb_ , and his eyes stung from crying for so long. He felt an aching **EMPTINESS** in his chest, his head pounding painfully from the migraine he had caused himself from crying and sobbing for so hard and so long. Sam sat up, carefully unclasping the chain from around Dean's neck. He felt his heart sink. Dean had still kept it, after _all_ these years? A choked sob escaped his throat, swallowing thickly. He took the bloodied necklace into the kitchen of the house, washing the blood off of the necklace under the kitchen sink. He wiped the necklace dry, before clasping it around his own neck.

Sam scoured the house until he found some climbing rope, and a king-sized, black linen sheet. He was breathing shakily, spreading the large sheet down on the floor besides his older brothers' deceased body. He choked back a sob, his stomach churning. He had killed so many supernatural creatures and beings, even tortured some demons, without a second thought. But Dean? It made his stomach twist in knots, at the _**sickening**_ sight of his brothers' cold, bloodied body, the torn and bleeding _flesh_ hanging off of his body. Done to him by Lilith's Hell hounds.

He rolled his older brother's body into the large, black linen sheets, and he used the rope to type up and secure his body in the sheet. He lifted Dean's lifeless body off the ground, slinging it over his shoulder. His stomach churned at the smell of his brothers' torn and deceasing flesh.

Sam walked out to their black 1967 chevy impala, setting Dean's body on the ground in the grass, digging the keys to the vehicle out of his jacket pockets. He unlocked the driver's side of the car, cranking up the cars purring engine, unlocking the back doors. He opened the backseat doors, sliding Dean's wrapped up body in the backseat. He felt his stomach churn wildly, and he quickly faced towards the grass, clutching his stomach, puking up his guts for a good five minutes. Afterwords, Sam heaved himself to his feet, using the sleeve off his jacket to wipe off the excess off of his mouth. He pulled off his jacket, tossing the filthy and bloodied article of clothing in the passenger's seat.

Sam drove for two and a half hours on an endless, winding road on the highway, before he had to pull off an exit towards Pontiac, Illinois, pulling off into the nearest parking lot of an old broken down factory. He had to pull over because his vision was so blurred with his endless tears, his head achingly _pounding_ , his eyes bloodshot and red from crying so hard for so long. Tears wildly streamed down the younger Winchester's face, his body trembling and shaking with his loud, choked, heart-breaking sobs for hours as he sat there in the darkness of the old abandoned factory parking lot, in the darkness of the city of Chicago, Illinois. His head was pounding with an excruciating migraine. His heart _**ached**_. He just wanted the tears to ~~stop~~. He chanced a glance at the backseat, just praying, begging that this was all just a horrible _nightmare_ , and that he'd just wake up soon, and Dean would be alive, and he'd pull him into his arms and tell him _It's okay. It was only a dream, Sammy._ Except. That wasn't going to happen. Dean was dead, and his body was wrapped in a bedsheet and tied securely with climbing rope in the backseat of the impala. Sam sobbed harder into the steering wheel, his body shaking and trembling with his sobs. Why'd he have to go? He left us all so soon...Sam prayed and prayed, but the hurt didn't go away. The pain just got worse. Why'd he have to die? He finally made his little brother cry.. When would it get better? He regretted ever taking his older brother for granted over the years, the guilt clawing at his throat, as he choked out the sobs.

After Sam had finally calmed down a little and the crying had been reduced to a minimum, and his migraine had subsided, he cranked up the purring engine of the impala, and drove until he found the nearest liquor store about a four minute drive away. The store had a brightly lit sign that read "Warehouse Liquors". Perfect. Just what he needed right now. Cigarettes, and hard liquor. Old habits never **died** , he guessed. He took out the keys out of the ignition, the purring of the impala's engine subsiding. He grabbed two bottles of Jack Daniel's whiskey, and two packs of Black Marlboro 100's. He placed the items on the counter, pulling out his debit card from his wallet. The cashier rang up his items. "Your total is fifty dollars and eighty cents." The cashier said, raising an eyebrow at Sam, as he slid the debit card into the slot, typing in the debit card's number. "Rough day, huh, dude?" THe cashier asked casually. Sam payed him, and grabbed the bottle with his items in it. "Yeah. You have _no_ idea, man.." He mumbled, sliding the debit card back in his wallet and sliding his wallet back in his jacket pocket, going back outside, unlocking the driver's side of the car, before sliding into the driver's side and setting the bag of items in the passenger's seat, tossing his dirtied jacket on the floorboard of the passenger's seat. He opened up one of the packs of cigarettes, putting one of the cancerous cigarettes in his mouth. He pulled a zippo lighter out of his jeans' pockets, lighting up the cigarette, inhaling the intoxicatingly sweet, cancerous taste of nicotine into his lungs, blowing the smoke out of his mouth, with a relaxing sigh, some of the tension relieving, and some of the worse of the stress subsiding as the nicotine got into his system, soothing and calming his shot nerves. He slid the key into the ignition, cranking the loud, purring engine of the impala. He put the car in reverse, backing up out of the parking lot, continuing his drive to the middle of nowhere in Pontiac, Illnois.

Where he would dig his brother's grave, and bury his deceased body.

After another hour and a half of driving, Sam soon found himself pulling into an abandoned gas station in the middle of nowhere, at the furthest and deepest part of the city. _Dean would have liked this, being buried in a town where the old brand of cars were first built in created, being the car fanatic Dean was, Sam_ thought silently to himself, as he cut the engine once more, going around to the back end of the impala, using the key to pop open the trunk. He pulled out a shovel, tossing it on the ground. Sam earlier that day had bought some wood, and some sturdy nails and a hammer. Sam went to work at building his brother a makeshift coffin, about three feet wide, and seven feet long. He made a large, wooden cross with the leftover wood he had, hammering it into the ground, to mark where Dean's grave would be. He put the hammer and nails back in the trunk, picking up the shovel off the ground, and it felt like the weight of the world had been placed on his shoulders. He dug and dug and _dug_ until he could dig no more, making the hole for his body about eight feet long, four feet wide, and six feet deep. Sam collapsed on the ground, exhausted, his body _**drenched**_ in sweat and tears, breathing heavily as he lie there, looking up at the beautiful night sky, that was full of stars, and a beautiful full moon. After resting for about twenty minutes, he heaved himself to his feet, trudging what came next. Sam pulled Dean's lifeless, wrapped up body out of the backseat of the impala, cutting the rope restraints he had tied around his body to keep the large bedsheet in place around him. His stomach churned as the smell of his deceased, torn flesh meet his nostrils. If it was any possible, he had smelled worse than the _first_ time he had wrapped up Dean's body. Sam undid the linen wraps next, heaving his body in the coffin. His body fit in the wooden coffin like his hand in a glove. A choked sob rose in his throat, a bittersweet taste in his mouth. He placed the lid on the coffin, lowering the wooden box containing his brother's' lifeless body into the ground, tears streaming wildly down his face. He picked up the shovel once more, shoveling the dirt back into the ground and over the coffin, burying him completely after about twenty minutes, patting the dirt with his shovel for good measure. He tossed the shovel back in the trunk, slamming it shut, but not hard enough to permanently damage the car, let alone damage it _at all_.

Sam slid into the backseat of the impala after cleaning up the remains of dry blood with a disregarded grease covered rag, pouring leather cleaner all over the backseat, before using the used rag to clean it up. After all, Dean had said he wanted them to take care of his ride. He slid to lie in the backseat, grabbing one of the bottles of whiskey out of the bag in the front seat, twisting off the bottle cap. He sat up on his elbows, bringing the bottle to his lips and turning it upside down, the hard liquor burning as it went down his throat that still felt raw from sobbing and crying. But it was the type of pain that felt **_good_**. Just as strong as he liked. On days like _this_ anyways.

After a few hours, the bottle fell to the floorboard of the impala out of his loosening grasp, a loud clang being heard as it fell from his hands. Sam's body trembled and shook with his own, heart-breaking cries of complete and utter agony and _grief_ , his vision soon becoming blinded by the amount of tears trickling down his face. Sam fell asleep clutching the samulet necklace around his neck, and a photo of him and Dean with Bobby to his chest.

After about three hours, Sam awoke with a strangled, choked out _scream_ of his brother's name, his face wet with tears and sweat. He gasped out, sucking in a breath, his body shaking and trembling. He slid his face into his hand, sobbing to the point to where he had given himself a case of the hiccups. After the hiccups and sobs and cries had subsided, about four cigarettes later and a few swigs of whiskey later, Sam decided to dig his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing one of the only few numbers he had in his phone. _Bobby Singer_.

Sam was audibly trying to muffle his trembling sobs when Bobby picked up the phone. "Sam? Is that you, boy?" Bobby answered, his voice dripping with worry and concern. This was the first time, in weeks, even months the old man had heard from the younger Winchester brother. Bobby had wondered for weeks if Sam had just completely gone over the edge, thinking that maybe he'd overdosed on the pain pills he'd been taking lately for the constant migraines Sam apparently got very often, or maybe hung himself. After Dean's death, having to watch Dean die? He was sure Sam would go immediately off the deep end and end his own life. After the series of unfortunate events, Sam's emotions had been like fragile china, and his heart as broken as shattered glass."Y-Yeah. I--It's me, Bobby." Sam replied, his voice rough and strained. It was obvious to anyone that knew Sam well enough that Sam had just awoken from a nightmare. The old man felt his heart break for Sam. He had already lost a mother, and a father, and now, _Dean_? The world was to harsh on the Winchester line. That was the problem. As a Winchester, family always ended in blood. "Where are you, kid? I'll come and get you." Bobby said, pacing around his bedroom in his house in Sioux Falls, North Dakota, worrying as bad as Sam's own mother over the younger Winchester. Sam shook his head silently to himself, although he knew well that Bobby couldn't see that. "I--I just need some time alone right now. You understand, right, Bobby?.." Bobby sighed. "Yeah. Just don't do anything stupid, kid. You have my phone number and I'm pretty damn sure you know my address by heart now." "Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Bobby." Sam sighed. "Goodnight ki-" Bobby started to say, but Sam hung up before he could get in another word. Sam turned off his cell phone, not wanted to be disturbed right now. Bobby frowned, sighing in frustration. He was so _worried_ about Sam. He loved the kid too much to see him go. He couldn't lose Sam, too.

Sam lie there in the backseat of the impala. It was 2:48am. Sam had never felt more alone in his **entire** existence. There was no Dean to reassure him It'll all be _okay_ , to comfort him when he woke up screaming from his night terrors. He was alone in this dark, cruel world, No one to protect him. He cried and sobbed until his head achingly pounded passing out in the backseat from pure exhaustion.

Sam had lost count of how many times he'd awoke screaming from nightmares that night, with a heart breaking scream of his older brothers' name. He felt so.. _empty_. He felt **dead inside**.

For _months_ Sam had researched and hunted, to try to find, something, **ANYTHING** to bring his brother back to life in one piece. Sometimes he swore he could hear Dean's screams of complete agonizing pain all the way down from the fiery pits of Hell, where his soul was rotting for all eternity, being _tortured_ and doing the torturing. Every crossroads demon he had summoned had outright refused to make a deal with the younger Winchester. He wanted so achingly **BADLY** to trade his soul in Hell for Dean to come back in one piece, but _none_ of the demons would make a deal with him. They were scared. Scared of Lilith, and afraid of what she'd _**do**_ to the demon who dared to touch Sam Winchester's soul.

Ever since the golden-eyed Archangel had heard of Dean Winchester's death, for _good_ this time- He'd kind of been watching over Sam like a guardian angel lately. He'd put him to sleep some nights when Sam awoke from his night terrors, something _relieving_ him of the pain from his pounding migraines, which were caused from Sam sobbing and crying for hours on end. The guilt was eating inside the Archangel at the misery he had once caused the two Winchester brothers on that fateful Tuesday afternoon in the diner. He now felt it was his duty to watch over the broken Winchester.

News of Dean Winchester's death spread like a wild fire throughout Heaven and Hell alike. He was _outraged_. I mean, who **WOULDN'T** be? Gabriel had just recently found out the importance of the older WInchester's existence. He was the Archangel Michael's one _true_ vessel. But Sam? Oh, Sam was reserved for a **_special_** Archangel. Sam's body was reserved to who used to be the highest ranking Archangel in all of Heaven, and he by far used to be the brightest Archangel ever known to Heaven and Earth. The Morningstar, known other than _Lucifer himself_. After four months of Dean's soul being tortured and giving out torture to other poor, unfortunate souls, Gabriel had been fairly surprised to say the least to what their Father had commanded next. He had **COMMANDED** Gabriel's little brother Castiel, to pull Dean Winchester's soul out of Hell.

_Four months later..._

Dean gasped, pulling the zippo lighter out of front jean pocket, flicking the lighter on, the orange light illuminating the wooden coffin. He was breathing heavily, panic clawing at his throat. Oh god. He was buried _alive_. " ** _HELP_**!!" Dean screamed, pounding hard on the wooden coffin, dirt raining down below on his still bloody face. He _clawed_ his way out of the grave, his fingernails hurting and aching from the force of the dirt against his fingernails. One of Dean's hands bursts from out of the dirt above his marked grave, followed by another. He crawled out of the ground, groaning, gasping in a heavy breath of oxygen, lying on his back, panting heavily. After a few moments he stood to his feet, looking around, the sunlight shining around him. Around the makeshift wooden cross marking his grave there was a perfect circle of dead trees, lying on the ground, as if an unearthly powerful **BLAST** had caused their fall. Dean's emerald green eyes widened in shock. Was he..pulled, raised out? Out of _Hell_? It was impossible, that much Dean knew, to have your soul just..suddenly **PULLED** out of the fiery pits of Hell. He was _baffled_. What could have done this? The most powerful creature they knew was Lilith herself, but _**she**_ had been the one to drag his soul to Hell. He sighed and shook his head, walking down the winding, country road, approaching the abandoned gas station he had been buried near nearby. "Hello?"

Dean rolled his outer shirt up over his fist when he got no answer in return after a few minutes, breaking the glass on the door, and undoing the lock on the door. He walked inside the abandoned gas station, grabbing a bottled water from the still-operational fridge, gulping it down, gasping. Dean picked up a newspaper, reading the headline date, which read: _Thursday, September 18th. "September_.." Dean breathed, setting the newspaper back down, swallowing thickly. He had been in Hell for four months. _**Jesus christ**_. Dean went into the gas station's bathroom, washing his face in the dingy sink, looking up, staring at his own reflection. He was now wearing a clean, black shirt, not ripped. He pulled up his shirt, examining his chest. Dean had a flashback, the pain of the memory making it hard to breathe and made his chest hurt, as he remembered the agonizing pain of being torn apart by Lilith's Hell hounds. He _shuddered_ , his eyes widening, when he noticed his skin was unblemished, and unscarred. As smooth as a newborn baby's bottom. He frowned. He pulls up his sleeve, gasping, when he noticed the shape of a handprint embedded into his skin like a brandish. Yep, someone had _**definitely**_ pulled him out of Hell.

Dean grabbed a plastic shopping bag, filling it with snacks off of the shelves, along with several bottles of water. He stops in front of the magazine racks, grinning slowly. He picks up one of the magazines, smirking knowingly, flipping through the Playboy magazine, before shoving it in his bag too. He goes up to the counter, hitting a single button to the register, shoving the cash in his shopping bag. After he had finished looting the cash register, the television suddenly started flickering. He walks over to the electronic, turning it off and on, the screen only showing static. He shuts off the device, only to have the radio to his right turn on with a white noise. He didn't waste a second to pull a carton of salt off of the shelf, starting to pour it on the window sill. A high-pitched, single tone begins, causing him to cover his ear in pain, his right hand still pouring the salt. As the piercing noise continues, he drops the salt, falling on his hands and knees with a groan of pain and agony. The window above him shatters as the ear-piercing noise continues, causing himself to drop to the floor. He tried to stand and run to escape the noise and flying glass, more glass on the ceiling shattering. He looked around cautiously, just wondering what the _fuck_ just happened.

Dean walked out of the abandoned gas station, spotting a phone booth nearby. He steps inside of it, taking out some of the loose change he had looted from the cash register. He dialed a number, only to be met with an alert tone. We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected. Dean sighs loudly in annoyance, hanging up the phone, it ringing once. "Yeah?" A familiar voice answered. Dean sighed in relief.

" _Bobby_?"

"Yeah?"

"It's me."

"Who's 'me'?"

"Dean."

A dial tone signals that he had hung up. He sighed, hanging up the phone, and dialing up Bobby's number again. "Who is this?" Bobby replies, his voice boiling with anger.

"Bobby, listen to me."

"This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya."

Dean sighed in frustration. He should have known from the moment he'd dug himself out of his grave that Bobby wouldn't believe him if he called. He hung up the phone for good this time, stepping out of the phone booth. He sees an old, white car parked outside. His emerald green eyes lit up with _glee_ ; he strides over to the car, hotwiring it, putting the car in reverse, the engine purring, pulling out of the gas station, starting his nine and a half hour drive to Bobby's house, in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.

_Nine and a half hours later..._

Nine and a half hours from when he'd gotten that dreadful phone call from someone claiming to be their Dean, he hears a pounding on the door. Bobby's hand wraps around the doorknob, his eyes widening with shock, grimacing. Dean steps back a bit, looking winded and apprehensive. Dean smiled cautiously, as he felt the older man look at him suspiciously. " _Suprise_." Dean said, chewing on his bottom lip nervously. "I--I don't.." Bobby stuttered, clearly completely baffled. Dean sighed, raking a hand through his messy, dark brown hair. "Yeah, me neither." He says, as he enters the bunker. "But here I am." Dean says, swallowing hard. As Dean moves towards Bobby, his green eyes widen as he notices the silver knife in the older man's hands, lunging forward and slashing at the older Winchester's skin. "Bobby! It's me!" Dean pleaded, side-stepping the older man. "My ass!" Bobby snaps. Dean shoves a chair between himself and Bobby, holding his hands out. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father. Bobby, it's _me_." Dean breathes out heavily, looking up at the older man.

Bobby lowered the knife, stepping forward slowly. He places a hand gently on the younger man's shoulder, before slashing at him again. Dean quickly side steps his attack, disarming him. "I am **NOT** a shapeshifter!" Dean yelled. "Then you're a Revenant!" The older man retorted back. Dean shoved Bobby away, having taken the knife from him. He holds it out in front of himself. "Alright, if I was either, could I do this---with a silver knife?" Dean says, rolling up one of his sleeves. He then gimaces, slicing the blade across his skin above his elbow, a line of blood trickling down his arm. Bobby's expression softened, and he gasped. " _Dean_?" He whispered, shocked and dazed. "That's what I've been trying to tell you." Bobby suddenly feels himself breaking down, grabbing Dean, pulling him in for a tight hug, feeling as if the whole world had stopped. This was his real Dean. And he was alive, and in one piece. Dean returns the hug with enthusiasm, relief on his freckled face. After a moment, the two men pulled apart from each other. "It's..It's _good_ to see you, boy." Bobby commented, swallowing hard. "Yeah, you too, Bobby.." He sighed. "But... how did you bust out?" Bobby questions, his eyebrows raised at Dean. "I don't know. I just, uh, I woke up in a pine box.." Bobby suddenly splashed holy water on Dean's face, to which he scowled, putting it out, using his shirt to wipe the water from off of his face. "I'm not a demon, _either_ , you know." He sighed. "Sorry. Can't be too careful." The older man said with a shrug.

The two walk further into the house, settling into the livingroom, sitting on the old, dusty couch. "But..that doesn't make a _lick_ of sense." Bobby inquired, frowning. "Yeah. Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir." Dean said, sarcasm dripping into his voice. "Dean. Your chest was ribbons, and your insides were _slop_. **AND** you've been buried for four months. Even if you could slip out of Hell and back into your meat suit--" Dean sighed, holding up his hands in defense. "I know, I know. I should look like a Thriller video reject." Bobby looked at him, his expression hardening. "What do you remember?" He asked Dean gently. "Not much. I remember I was a Hell hound's chew toy, and then.. _lights out._ Then I come to six feet under, that was it." Dean said with a casual shrug of his muscular shoulders."Sam's number isn't working.. He's, uh, he's not.." Dean stuttered, praying that he was wrong. That Sam hadn't killed himself out of grief after seeing his brother ripped apart and killed by Lilith's hounds. "Oh, he's alive. As far as I know. Bobby said, looking up at him. "Good... Wait, what do you mean, _as far as you know_?" He questions, looking at him cautiously. "I haven't talked to him in _months_." Bobby shrugged. "You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?" Dean frowned. "He was dead set on it." Bobby said, sighing. "Bobby, you should've been looking after him." Bobby scowled at him, exhaling a deep sigh. "I _**tried**_. These last few months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For him _or_ me. Sam had to bury you." Dean swallowed thickly, guilt clawing at the pit of his stomach. "Why did you bury me, anyway?" Bobby shrugged. "I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. _But_.. Sam wouldn't have it." Dean's face looked relieved. "Well, I'm glad he won **_that_** one." Bobby glanced over at him. "He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't _want_ to be found." Dean's expression looked sad, swallowing hard. "Oh, dammit, Sammy.." He cursed under his breath. "What?" Bobby said, looking over at him. "Oh, he got me home okay. But _whatever_ he did, it's bad mojo." Dean's expression darkened. "What makes you so sure?" Bobby said, raising an eyebrow. "You should have seen the grave site. It was like a _**nuke**_ went off. And then there was this..this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. And then this." He took off his jacket, tossing it aside. He pulled up his sleeve, to reveal the handprint brandished into his shoulder. Bobby stood to his feet. "What the Hell?" "It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." Bobby frowned. "But _why_?" Dean looked up at him. "To hold up their end of the bargain." "You think Sam made a deal." Bobby said, frowning. "It's what I would have done.. _again_." He said, mumbling the last word of his sentence to himself.

Dean was talking into his cell phone to a cell phone company. They were trying to track Sam down. "Yeah, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me. Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles. Social is 2-4-7-4. Thank you." Dean said, hanging up the phone, looking at the laptop. Bobby raised an eyebrow at him. "How'd you know he'd use that name?" Dean chuckled, shrugging. "Are you _kidding_ me? What _don't_ I know about that kid?"

The laptop was open to a web browser; Dean typed in the web address to the address for Arc Mobile, the cell phone company Sam had been using. Dean frowns, picking up one of many of the empty liquor bottles scattered around the floor. "Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?" Bobby looked up at Dean, swallowing thickly. "Like I said. Last few months _ain't_ been all that easy." Dean nods slowly, holding his gaze with Bobby from half a fraction of a second. "Right." He mumbled.

The laptop beeps; the display on the screen shows a city map with a blue arrow pointing to a star. The location reads:

Phone Location:

263 Adams Road

Pontiac, Illinois.

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois." Dean said grimly. "Right near where you were planted." Dean nodded. "Right where I popped up. Hell of a _coincidence_ , don't you think?" Dean said questionably.

After about nine and half hours of driving, Bobby and Dean pulled into the parking lot of the location the GPS had led them to. The Astoria Motel. It was about 9:49pm. Dean took the key out of the ignition, the purring engine of the car they were driving silencing. The two walked down a dingy hallway, knocking on the door with a number "207" inside a red heart. The door is opened by a hot young woman with dark hair, wearing only a tank top and underwear. She looks at the expectantly. "So, where is it?" The woman asks, hands on her curvy hips. Dean looked at Bobby, confused. "Where's _what_?" The woman sighed in annoyance. "The pizza...that takes two guys to deliver?" Dean sighed, obviously disappointed. "I think we got the wrong room." Sam steps into the light, wearing a grey shirt and jeans, his expression dark and grim."Hey, is--" Sam starts, stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Dean. He swallows, obviously in a state of shock, his eyes flickering between Dean and Bobby. "Heya, Sammy.." Dean mutters quietly, his voice dripping with raw emotion. Sam was silent for a moment. Dean steps inside the room, ignoring the woman, who steps aside to let them in. As Dean gets close, Sam pulls a knife and lunges at Dean. The woman screams; Dean blocked Sam's attacks, and Bobby pulled Sam off of him, breathing hard. Bobby gripped Sam around the shoulders as he struggled in the older man's tight grip. "Who are you?!" Sam shouted, screaming, his voice strained. "Like **_you_** didn't do this?!" Dean yelled back. "Do what?!" Sam said, oblivious to what he was talking about. "It's him. It's _him_. I've been through this already, it's really him." Bobby said to Sam gently. Sam stared at Dean, the struggle slowly going out of his body. "What.." Dean advanced on his younger brother cautiously, staring a thim. "I know. I look _fantastic_ , huh?"

Bobby lets go of Sam, who looked on the verge of tears as he steps forward, pulling Dean into a desperate hug, tears streamed wildly down the younger Winchester's face, his fingers gripping the back of Dean's shirt, as if he let go, this might not all be real. He swallowed thickly, sighing, the tears wetting his older brother's shirt. " _Damnit_ , Dean.." Sam breathed, pushing Dean back to arm's length. Bobby watched them, tears brimming in his own eyes. The young woman suspiciously eyes them, before asking, "So are you like.. _together_?" She asked sheepishly, looking at the three men. He looked up, looking over at the busty brunette. "What? No. **_No_**. He's my brother." She looked away awkwardly, before her gaze met Sam's. "Uh.. got it..I..I guess. Look, I should probably _go_." Sam nods at the young woman. "Yeah. Yeah, That's probably a good idea. Sorry."

Sam, now wearing a white button-down shirt, opens the door to let the young woman, now dressed in a plaid shirt, out. "So, call me." The woman said with a warm, but devilish smile. "Yeah, sure thing, Kathy." She frowned. "It's _Kristy_." Sam nods. "..Right." Sam comes back into the motel room and sits down. Dean is standing above his younger brother, arms crossed. Bobby and Dean both looked at him suspiciously. "So tell me, what'd it cost?" Dean asked, frowning down at him. Sam only smiled. "The girl? I don't pay, Dean." Dean sighed in annoyance. "That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it _cost_? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?" Sam frowned deeply, looking up at him, confused. "You think **_I_** made a deal?" Bobby intervened. "That's _exactly_ what we think." Sam wrinkled his nose. "Well, I didn't." Dean looked at Sam, his gaze hard and intense. "Don't lie to me." Sam sighed. "I'm not _lying_." Dean moved closer to his younger brother. "So, what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, that it? You're some demons' bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this." Sam stood up, boiling with anger. "Look Dean, I wish I _had_ done it, alright?" Sam sighed. Dean grabbed Sam from the front of his shirt, growing tired of Sam's goddamn bullshit. "There's no other way this could have gone down. Now tell me the truth!" Sam broke away from his brother's grip. "I tried _everything_. That's the truth. I tried opening up the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, alright? You were rotting in Hell for months. For _months_ , and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm **_sorry_**." Sam turned his gaze away enough so that Dean couldn't see his face, the emotions overwhelming, tears trickling down his cheeks. Dean looked at his brother, his expression softening, the guilt eating him away inside. "It's _okay_ , Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you." Dean said, gently placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question." "If he didn't pull me out, then what _did_?"

After about another hour or so of talking, Bobby leads the boys down a set of steps. "She's about four hours down the interstate. Try to keep up." Bobby said, getting into his own car. "I assume you'll want to drive." Sam said, chuckling, pulling the keys out of his right pocket, tossing them to Dean, who catches them easily in the palm of his right hand. Dean chuckled. "Oh, I almost forgot!" He steps towards the car, running his hand along the smooth, jet black paint job lovingly. "Hey, _sweetheart_ , you miss me?" Dean gets into the driver's' side of the car, sliding down into the familiar leather seat, slipping the key into the ignition, revving the cars loud purring engine. He sighed happily, shutting his door. And that's when he noticed it. Dean give his younger brother a dirty look, after noticing the iPod plugged into the stereo. Sam just silently gets into the driver's side, shutting the door, smiling all the while. Dean glares at him. "What the _hell_ is that?" Dean says, , a deep scowl forming on his lips."That's an iPod jack." Dean sighed, frustrated. "You were supposed to take care of her, not douche her up." Sam shrugged. "Dean, I thought it was my car." Dean sneered, sighing, and as the engine purred, "Vision" by Jason Manns played from the iPod jack. Dean rolled his eyes, glaring at Sam again, looking pained. " _Really_?" Sam shrugged innocently. Dean ripped the iPod out of the jack, tossing it into the backseat.

Dean and Sam are back in their familiar places, driving down the busy highway, talking as they drove down the dark roads of Pontiac, Illinois. "There's still one thing that's bothering me." Dean said, looking bothered. "Yeah?" Sam asked, curious. "Yeah, that night I bit it, or.. got bit." He said, chuckling. "How'd you make it out? I thought Lilith was going to _kill_ you." Sam shrugged. "Well, she _**tried**_. And she couldn't." Dean raised an eyebrow, still keeping his eyes on the road. "What do you mean she couldn't?" "She fired this, like, burning light at me, and..didn't leave a scratch. Like I was immune or something." " _Immune_?" "Yeah. I don't know who was more surprised, her or me. She left pretty fast after that." Dean was silent for a moment, before he spoke up. "Huh. What about Ruby, where is she?" Sam shrugged. "Dead. For _now_." Dean bit his lip, not sure he wants to ask his next question. "So, you've been using your, uh, freaky ESP stuff?" Sam shook his head. "No." Dean raised an eyebrow in suspicion. "You sure about that? Well, I mean, now that you've got.. _immunity_ , whatever the hell that is..just wondering what other kind of weird crap you've got going on." Sam sighed. "Nothing, Dean. Look, you didn't want me to go down that road, so I _didn't_ go down that road. It was practically your dying wish." Dean nods. "Yeah, well, let's keep it that way."

SInce Dean felt too tired to drive for nine and a half straight hours that night, they pulled off onto an exit, after a few minutes pulling into a less-trashy motel, renting a room for the night. Dean and Sam got out of the car, going into the lobby of the motel, going up to the desk. "We need a room." Dean said, the man behind the counter staring at the two uneasily. "Well, uh, do you mind a room with one bed? All of the other two bedrooms are taken." The man said, slightly intimidated by the two. "That'll be fine." Dean paid the man and got their room key, and the two went up to the room. "You want to take a shower, Dean? I took one earlier in the last motel before you guys showed up." Sam said with a shrug, sitting on the edge of the motel bed, tugging off his boots and socks. Dean nods wearily. "Yeah." He said, grabbing a change of clothes before slipping into the bathroom, locking the door behind him, strpping off his sweaty clothes, turning on the steaming hot water, letting it wash away all the dirt and grime. He washed his body and hair before stepping out and wrapping a towel around his waist, drying off his hair, running a comb through his hair and brushing it back, before slipping on one of his Led Zeppelin shirts, and some black boxers and sweatpants. He put on some deodorant and sprayed himself with some chocolate smelling Axe, before stepping out of the now steam-filled bathroom, to find Sam passed out on the bed. He smiled softly, turning off the light, and slipping into the bed with his younger brother. After a few hours of peaceful sleep, that's when it hit Dean.The _nightmares_. Dean tossed and turned in his sleep, his hands fisted in the sheets, tears trickling wildly down the older Winchester's freckled cheeks. A choked out sob rose and his throat, a screamed gasp leaving his mouth. " _ **SAAAM**_!!" Dean cried out in his sleep. Sam awoke from his dreamless sleep, to hear his older brother screaming his name, complete agony and heartbreak in his voice. Then he looked over, his heart shattering, a lump forming in his throat. If he had to guess, Dean was having a nightmare of his time in Hell. "Dean? Dean, wake up." He said, shaking him gently. After a few more tries of waking him up, Dean jolted upward, causing Sam to scoot away a little so Dean didn't knock him off the bed in the process, gasping for air. "Hey..you alright, dude?" Sam asked gently, concern dripping into his voice. Dean sighed. There was no use hiding it, really. Sam was smart enough to figure out on his own why he'd been screaming. "Yeah, just fuckin' _peachy_." He mumbled, looked down, his face wet with sweat and tears. Sam frowned, feeling guilty, as he pulled his older brother into his arms. "C'mere, Dean.." He said gently, turning, pulling Dean against his chest, who in turn relaxed a little, not even really bothering to push Sam away and tell him to fuck off. Truth was, he..he had _missed_ this. He had missed Sam so much.. Dean sighed quietly, curling up against his chest, his face buried in his shoulder. He felt Sam pull the covers over them, and felt Sam's thumb gently wipe away the tears trickling down his face. "Dean?." Sam asked softly. "Yeah, Sammy?." He mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper, being muffled by Sam's shirt. "I love you, dude." Dean smiled softly against his chest. "I love you _too_ , Sammy.." He whispered, as he felt Sam loosely wrap his arms around his waist, their legs tangled together. He fell asleep, there, in his brother's' arms, and he swore he'd never felt more obnoxiously happy, or safe, or at _home_ than here, with Sammy, in this crummy motel room.

_Sam was his home, as he'd always been. He didn't feel complete without him, and it just felt so right. He was was back here, with his little brother, in a motel room. He swears he'd never felt more at home, more at peace with himself than here, tangled up in his brothers' loving embrace. And he wouldn't have it any other way._  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Supernatural aesthetics and edits also posted to my SPN edits blog the-boy-king-aesthetics on Tumblr


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